Two Wrongs
by Madame Reveuse
Summary: Two wrongs can't make a right. Or can they? A sixteen-year-old Nimrod, whose mother has just abandoned him, is about to find out as he goes on his Taranushi journey and befriends a strange young Ifrit. Bit of a crackfic. Rated T for language and certain...things being implied.
1. Victoria Station

**This is a story that some of the reviewers over at "My Nimlis headcanons" bade me continue. It is set in Nimrod's teenage years and will be mostly from his point of view. There will be a tiny bit of slash later on, but completely harmless, no sex or anything. Updates will happen, alas irregularly, as my main focus is still on "My Nimlis headcanons", this here being a kind of side thing. I'll try to do an update every other week.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. If I owned Iblis...oh dear god...let's say my sex life would be rather more satisfactory, and I'd also rule the world.**

**Please read and review, thanks! Flames will be quenched by the icy waters of utter ignorance! **

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><p><em>Dear reader,<em>

_People generally don't seem to put much thought into the beginnings of the incessant cold war between Nimrod and Iblis. They widely assume that Nimrod and Iblis have just always been enemies, and their fathers before them, and their grandfathers before their fathers, and so on into the dawn of time. That is only partly right._

_It is true that, as djinn go, some Godwin has always fought some Teer in the past, as these families never fail to bring forth powerful tribal leaders. However it appears that Nimrod and Iblis specially didn't start out as enemies. I had to ply my muse (who, as readers of my other stuff already know, is Iblis with two tiny useless wings on his back) with a lot of my good booze to coerce the story out of him (it's not something he likes to discuss, or think about for that matter) but eventually I got this tale of a year of secret, technically illegal friendship between two confused youths who tried and failed to be rebellious (as Iblis puts it: "He wasn't as good as he got yet, and I wasn't as evil, so we kinda met up in the middle") and a meeting at "Victoria fucking Station". _

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><p>"Nimrod! Nimrod, your cab is here!"<p>

"Coming, Layla!" Nimrod shouted down the stairs, dragging his luggage behind him.

Layla, who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, right by the open front door, sighed with something slightly close to exasperation at her little brother.

"I don't understand why you have to take so much...stuff with you" she said. "Just your lamp would suffice, really. Or why you refuse to take a whirlwind. That's so much easier, really."

Nimrod was about to depart on his Taranushi journey, and what he hadn't told his sister was that he decided against a whirlwind and in favor of mundane means of travel because he simply had no idea where to go yet.

After all, he had had little to no leisure to prepare for the ritual journey. His mother had left the family home for Babylon a mere month ago, and the lives of both Godwin siblings had been turned upside down. Suddenly Layla, young as she still was, had become Marid leader and had to get accustomed to a whole new world of business and responsibilities. Nimrod had been pretty much left alone to harbor his hurt feelings, even though his demeanor betrayed nothing of that and Layla thought her little brother had gotten over it like a true adult. But Nimrod wasn't quite as mature as she thought, and telling her that he was entirely unprepared for the Taranushi ritual or asking her who had so much to do for help would only disappoint his sister and be another burden on her, so Nimrod didn't say anything to her.

They said their goodbyes and Nimrod entered the cab, telling the driver to take him to Victoria Station, one of the major train stations in London.

There, he found himself before a large message board, running his eyes over departures and time tables, wondering just what direction, which corner of the world it might be for him. He had to admit he was feeling a bit lost. And not only that. Somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being _watched. _Watched by another djinn, no less.

Could it be Layla? Or Mr. Rakshasas? Had one of them followed him here to see how he was doing? Or, he thought for a split second in a childish glimmer of hope, his mother? Had she come back? He could feel the presence of a djinn, and quite a powerful one at that. Powerful, but...unstable.

He pushed these silly thoughts away from him and glanced around the station. Soon he spotted someone, the silhouette entirely unfamiliar to him, leaning casually onto the wall in some dark corner, so as to observe without being seen.

"Hey! Over there!" Nimrod called out to the stranger who, upon being spotted, came into the light.

It was a young man barely past boyhood, of about the same age as Nimrod, give or take a year. Nimrod found himself scrutinized warily by a pair of quite particular light brown eyes that, when exposed to the sunlight like this, had an almost yellow-ish sheen to them. These eyes stared at him from underneath a mess of white-blond hair which, combined with a rather dark complexion, looked exotic enough to a Londoner. He was travelling much lighter than Nimrod; while the latter carried his big, cherry-red duffle and his lamp of course, the former had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder and that was it. His clothes had a hand-me-down look to them; all of this added up made a picture of strange, scruffy, careless elegance that wasn't so much about looks, but rather about the way the stranger moved as he stepped closer...an elegance that Nimrod with his fine suit and tidy appearance could have never achieved, no matter how hard he tried.

"Yes? Is there any problem, good sir?" the stranger asked in a quiet voice, with a careful, stilted way of phrasing that Nimrod took for foreigner English.

"I just...thought you were looking at me."

"Indeed I was" the stranger said, a smirk tugging at the right hand corner of his mouth. "Is it forbidden to look at you, good sir?"

The "good sir" sounded weird coming from a boy about his age, Nimrod thought. Like he had learned his English out of books. Maybe he was doing it in mockery? He looked the type.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Nimrod asked.

"Excuse me? I'm London born and bred, thank you very much." Written out, the words may look angry, but in fact, the stranger hadn't even raised his voice.

"Oh, so you...just don't get out much" Nimrod assumed.

For the first time, the other's cocksure behavior seemed to flicker. "That's right, I don't...get out much" he said. "You're a djinn too?" It was a question, although phrased as a statement.

"Right! I am" Nimrod said, somewhat relieved the other had asked first. "Nimrod Godwin. From the Marid tribe."

The other hesitated, then shrugged. "I'm Iblis Teer. Ifrit."

For a moment Nimrod was shocked. He hadn't had anything to do with the Ifrit yet; he just knew the nightmare-inducing stories the folks told about them. Of course he had heard of the son of the current Ifrit leader, enigma that he was. The boy had never been introduced to djinn society, Nimrod's mother had been of the opinion that this was simply because Iblis Teer senior was known to not care very much for djinn society. Or his son. Or anyone other than himself.

But there had always been the _other_ stories, the kind you only whispered. About how Iblis senior kept his son locked up in absolute isolation at all times, training him to fight with brutal methods unknown to even the worst of djinn, making him become a merciless killer weapon absolutely devoid of empathy or any other emotion, brainwashed into hating every other djinn or human on the face of the earth. And, of course, about how he would release this fearsome monster in due time, when it became strong enough.

The guy in front of him didn't look brainwashed, or like he was about to kill Nimrod on the spot. Nimrod had to admit he was intrigued; the Ifrit had piqued his curiosity. _Let's see about him_, he thought and extended a hand.

"It's nice to meet you" he said.

"Umm...? Nice to meet you too?" Iblis answered carefully and looked at Nimrod's hand as if he was waiting for him to perform a magic trick.

"You shake it" Nimrod helped out.

Iblis nodded and took Nimrod's hand. He had a nice, firm handshake. _Trustworthy._

Then they let go and eyed each other, both still not letting their guard down, the tension fading only slowly.

"So, where are you off to?" Iblis asked eventually, gesturing around the train station.

"Isn't that obvious? I'm on my Taranushi, of course."

"It's not obvious. What is a Taranushi?" Iblis asked politely.

"Oh, you wouldn't know that, right? What with you being evil. The Ifrit don't have that ritual, do they?"

"Well, no, the Ifrit don't have that, as far as I know. What's it all about?" Nimrod noticed with interest how Iblis's voice had a sharp edge to it for the first time. _Doesn't like being called _evil_, huh? And the way he speaks of 'the Ifrit', so detached, like he isn't one..._

He didn't ask. Instead, he explained all about the Taranushi journey as best as he could.

"Interesting. So you just have to find some mundane and grant him three wishes?"

"Basically, yes."

"I've never done that. Granted wishes, that is. I would just pick anyone, get it over with, and then have a good time."

"Yes, that's a very..._Ifrit_ approach to the matter" Nimrod said, jokingly scolding. "There's more to it. I'll have to find a very _special_ mundane, one who _deserves_ good luck. They can fail you if you do it wrong, and then you lose djinn powers for a year."

Iblis looked impressed for about a half second, then he smirked again. "Well, not me. You. Good luck searching" he teased. For the first time, he appeared like the stereotypical mean, bullying Ifrit. But only for a moment. Then his curiosity seemed to get the better of him, and he asked: "Where are you going to look anyway?"

"I, um, I don't know yet. What about you, where are you going?"

"I'm running away from home."

"What, really? Why?"

Iblis sighed and raked a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "That's not important right now. Let's just say...I'm sick and tired of my old man and his evil Ifrit stuff. He can kill people by himself if that's what he wants. I'm not following his stupid legacy. I'm out of here."

Nimrod remembered the stories again. If his father was really that bad...no wonder Iblis ran away. Anyone would.

"But where are you _going_?"

"I don't know. Just...away from here. I'll just take the next train out of town...who knows what happens then."

"So, why don't you take a whirlwind? That's much easier, really" Nimrod said, smiling as he remembered Layla.

"Umm, I don't want my father to notice me go."

"Would he come after you?"

Iblis sighed again. "I guess he won't. Not like he cares. The truth is...I haven't made a whirlwind yet. Ever."

Nimrod looked at him in surprise. Creating a whirlwind was one of the first things Marid kids learned. Maybe the stories where not all true...

"Anyway, about your Taranushi thing" Iblis said quickly as he saw how Nimrod was looking at him. "I wouldn't waste my time around here, if I were you. I'd go to the really poor countries, practically everyone could use a good djinn there. Africa, south Asia, you know. Plus, it's warm there."

Nimrod nodded slowly. That had been a solid piece of advice...the young Ifrit was clearly warming up for the idea. He was so...mysteriously interesting. Nimrod wondered what he had been through.

He wanted to find out. He didn't want to part ways with him just yet. He looked Iblis in the eyes, and saw his own lost feeling mirrored there.

"Do you want to come?" he asked spontaneously.

"What, with you? On your...journey thing?"

"I know you'd like to. Come on."

The Ifrit bit his lip. "Right, if you don't mind..."

And that's how Nimrod first met Iblis.

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><p><strong>This was weird, wasn't it? Yeeeah. Wherever is this weird friendship going to go? Can two wrongs possibly make a right? If that question even remotely interests you, stay tuned for later chapters!<strong>


	2. To Egypt

**Yeah, I'm sending the two of them to Egypt...stereotypical, I know, but they won't stay there forever. I was in Egypt once! Sadly I didn't see the pyramids.**

**A lot of talking in this chapter, sorry...it's tedious, but I've got to make clear where they're standing at this point of the story.**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own anything. If I owned CotL, A THING at the end of book four would definitely not have happened. **

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><p>"What do you mean you've never been to Egypt?"<p>

"I've just never been there. Why?"

"Then where did you go to have your Tammuz? Oh, let me guess: Las Vegas."

"No. This is my fist time to leave London. And...my _what_?"

Nimrod looked scandalized.

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><p>They had just hopped on the next train out of town, as Iblis feared his father <em>might<em> yet come after him and had wanted to get away _fast_. Nimrod's djinn powers had provided tickets for both of them. They had a vague directive now, but that was about it. Nimrod had started to suggest places he wanted to visit, only to get blank stares for each one. Apparently Iblis really had been locked up at home for most of his life, as his geological knowledge was vague at best. As was, apparently, his knowledge of djinn rituals.

"The Tammuz ritual? Come on! You literally cannot function as a djinn without that!"

Iblis graced him with a shrug. "I believe I read about that once" he supplied. "But it is not done in my tribe anymore. Or at least it wasn't done to me."

"But...but literally every djinn has to do this!"

"Is that so? Don't ask me" Iblis said in his calm, quiet voice. "But, consider this: the myth behind the ritual, as far as I know it, entails a random king dying and getting reborn in the form of his son Tammuz, and then something about an unknown entity forcing a so-called Great Decision on everything that lived. Focusing on the djinn here, we now have three tribes who self-sacrificingly choose virtue in order to protect the – mostly not all that virtuous – mundanes from the three asswipe tribes who chose to be evil. Well, I don't mean to offend, but I'm pretty sure this myth was constructed by the Marid. It does create a certain...self-righteousness. Among your tribe, that is. I must admit I can see why an Ifrit family would choose not to teach their children that anymore. I mean, wasn't the king even named _Nimrod_?"

"He was my ancestor" Nimrod admitted, a bit ashamed. This calmly offered explanation had felt like a punch in the chest. Nimrod realized that it didn't do to view his new friend as simple. Iblis didn't know much of the world, as his life so far had probably been pretty isolated, but he was educated on certain things (maybe he had had access to a library at home?) and could also be disquietingly _sharp._

"All good and well, but how did you find your focus word?" he asked.

"My what?" There was the blank stare again. Nimrod had quickly learned about that. It was Iblis' reaction to not knowing.

"Um...your focus word? Every djinn has that? It's the word that is used to channel your djinn power? My God, Iblis, how do you even _have_ powers?"

Iblis raised an eyebrow at him in a rather indignant manner, held out his hand and said: "Look".

He squinted his eyes and...focused. Nimrod got the weird feeling that the air around him took a deep breath in, until the whole train compartment, empty save for the two of them, faded and the only real place was the open palm of Iblis' hand, which Nimrod noticed, he himself was staring at as if transfixed. Then the compartment breathed out, Iblis snapped his fingers, and suddenly there was a perfectly good red apple lying in his hand. He threw it over to Nimrod; it bounced off his shoulder and fell down into his lap, where Nimrod, with a bit of a fuss, managed to catch it. He bit into the apple and found no fail on it.

Wordless djinn power.

"Astonishing" Nimrod breathed. "I didn't think that even possible."

"I never knew another way." Iblis shrugged again, but there was also that tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The young Ifrit seemed proud to have one over Nimrod for once.

"Anyway, you need to have a focus word somehow. It's safer" Nimrod explained. He told his Ifrit friend as best as he could why the focus word was important.

"I think you have a point" Iblis admitted at last. "Whenever I happen upon some nice word, I'll tell you."

Nimrod fidgeted a bit. He didn't know why, but this _unorthodox _way of doing things made him subtly uncomfortable. "It still feels wrong for you to not have a Tammuz."

"Why? I personally don't see the sense in subjecting myself to a ritual that appears to be designed to antagonize me" Iblis said softly. Carefully. Not meaning to offend his newly made friend. Not throwing any blame. _Appears to be designed_.

Nimrod sighed. Maybe his tribe _had_ made up the Tammuz ritual, and maybe one valid reason had been teaching the young about the Ifrit and how vicious they were...but hey, well, they _were_ vicious, weren't they? Iblis was just...an outlier. Maybe.

"You see, the problem is, we do not get asked. That might be fine for you...you get to be good, after all. But I have not been asked if I wanted to be evil. No one even spared the thought. Because some thousand years ago, some dead men and women made some sort of decision for some reason maybe, and as a result, you and I both were born into an oppressive caste system of good and evil that we cannot escape. I was not asked whether going around killing people for no reason would be what I desired for my future" Iblis said, as if he had been reading his thoughts.

"So...what do you desire for your future?" Nimrod asked curiously.

"I don't know" Iblis sighed. "For now, I'll just do the next best thing, and that is running away."

"Hey, if you really don't care about being evil, maybe I could get them to adopt you into the Marid."

"You think that could work out?" Iblis asked, looking doubtful.

"It's worth a try, right? I could surely get something arranged. After all, my mother...oh..." Over their animated conversation, Nimrod had forgotten his grief for a time. He sighed and corrected himself: "I meant my _sister_ is the Marid leader."

"You have a sister?"

"Yes. Her name is Layla. She's older than me. She became Marid leader just about a month ago."

"And your mother...died?"

"No" Nimrod said, while thinking _yes, in a sense. She died to me. _"She just went away."

"Went away...where?"

"Babylon" Nimrod said sadly, then he elaborated: "My mother is the new blue djinn."

"Oh. That must be...tough for you."

"Yes. Anyway" Nimrod changed the topic, trying to smile. "You know what we're doing? We're getting out at the next stop, and I'll make a whirlwind and bring us to Cairo. Just because. No rituals, promised, I just don't think any djinn should miss out on the desert and the pyramids, and...Egypt, really. Can't miss out on Egypt."

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><p>Nimrod kept true to his word and, as soon as they had gotten off the train, set out to create a large whirlwind. It maybe was a bit larger than strictly necessary, but he wanted to impress his new friend. It seemed to work as Iblis watched him with rapt attention and, after Nimrod was done and they had both boarded the whirlwind, asked: "Can you teach me how to do this?"<p>

"Of course I can" Nimrod agreed, feeling proud and delighted by the request. "We'd better do that out in the desert, though."

"Why there?"

"You'll see. Deserts just bring out the best in a djinn."

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><p>Flying on a whirlwind, Iblis noted, was exciting for the first two hours. Thereafter, you got bored and either found some distraction or fell asleep. There were no distractions here save for talking to Nimrod, and Nimrod was busy controlling the whirlwind and keeping track of where the heck they were, so Iblis slept almost all the way to Cairo. His sleep hadn't been so undisturbed in a long time.<p>

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><p>Nimrod loved being in Cairo again. Nothing against London, great city, but it got kind of cold there in the winter. The hot climate in Egypt warmed him right down to the core, which made him feel happy and bristling with djinn powers.<p>

He had always adored the city. Sure, it was noisy and overcrowded and it had a tendency to smell a bit weird on hot days, but it was a place full of culture and history. He felt in his bones that there had been djinn living here for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Nimrod liked the bazaars (you could buy nearly everything on earth there) and those nice little antique shops run by helpful mundanes who would recognize a djinn when they saw one and were always willing to pay one a favor. Right now, though, he felt pretty tired from operating a whirlwind for all this time, and wanted nothing more than to hit the bed and sleep for the next ten hours. So he made for his family's estate in Garden City, pausing occasionally to grab Iblis' hand and drag him behind. Iblis, who had never seen a city that was not London, couldn't be bothered with keeping up as he was nursing his tremendous culture shock. He only came back to his senses when they were standing in front of the Godwin townhouse, which was more of a palace than a house really.

"What is this place?"

"My family lives here sometimes" Nimrod answered.

"Is this...safe?" Iblis asked hesitantly. "I mean...they wouldn't take well to me being here, would they?"

Nimrod smiled. Even through the soft fog of his exhaustion, he felt the thrill of the forbidden, bringing an _Ifrit_ here. Well, it wasn't like anyone would ever find out. "It's safe" he assured. "Neither Layla nor mother will come here, and Mr. Rakshasas is in London advising my sister."

"And your father?"

Nimrod just shrugged and led the way inside.

"You'll find the guest bedroom if you head up _that_ staircase right there. Be my guest. I, for one, will go to sleep now. Tomorrow we can head out into the desert and I'll teach you how to make a whirlwind, alright?"

"Hmm, alright. But first thing tomorrow, I want to see more of Cairo."

"That's fine too, as long as you try not to get in trouble." It was a strange feeling, Nimrod thought, to suddenly be the responsible adult. He had always been the _little_ brother. Granted, Iblis wasn't that much younger than him, but still...he felt weirdly protective of him.

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><p>The guest bedroom was, like everything else in the house, bright white and clean. There was an ornate Persian rug on the floor and antiquitieseverywhere...but not a speck of dust to be found. Iblis sat on the bed (crisp white sheets) and wondered who on earth kept the place that clean. He hadn't encountered any servants, but there had to be some. He knew from experience what happened when a paranoid landlord fired almost all the servants and let a great mansion run down; he had witnessed it firsthand at the old Teer manor.<p>

He sat there twiddling his thumbs for a minute, but grew bored very quickly. He had already explored the whole house, and he was feeling restless being cooped up inside. It was getting dark out, but he wasted no thought on sleeping. He had slept all through the journey. Maybe he should go out by himself. He was really burning to get to know the city. He decided in favor of the idea, left Nimrod a note and went out.

Nimrod, meanwhile, was getting ready for bed as he heard the front door shut. _Take care, city of Cairo_, he thought laconically. _You're getting hit by a baby Ifrit with the zeal of an excited puppy_. But then he smiled and modified that thought to _Take care, little brother._

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><p><strong>Woop! Second chapter and he's already the little brother...is that too early? Nimrod is a pretty protective person...but whatever will his protectiveness lead to? What will Iblis do and see while hitting the town? Will he be swallowed by a manhole? Will rabid camels eat him? Will shady merchants try to sell him drugs? And <em>will <em>the poor soul_ ever_ learn to make a whirlwind? This and more exciting things in the next chapter! To be updated whenever!  
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**Liked it? Hated it? Any ideas for the future? In any case, leave a review!**


	3. Life Lessons with Iblis

**Behold! I puked out another chapter! Working title: Confused evil teen hits the town**

**The adventures of bishie Iblis continue! I know he seems a bit OOC as of now, but give him some slack, he's, like, twelve (well, fifteen actually, but you know what I mean). The evil will come soon enough. Also, yes he may seem **_**a bit young**_** for some of the things he does in this chapter, but, well, be mindful that this is The Old Times, where people went about things a little...earlier.  
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**Thanks to Guest53 for the reviews! Well, feelings can change, right? And they sure as hell will. I mean, he's the little brother only **_**now.**_**..**

**Disclaimer: ****Yeah no, I did not magically get ownership of the characters. Mr. Kerr owns them. Although he did, in my opinion, mess up a bit with some of them.**

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><p>The Cairo nightlife was, as Iblis discovered, full of surprises.<p>

First of all, as soon as the sun went down, it got really cold...which was surprising. Wasn't it supposed to be warm around here? The unforeseen temperature drop was pretty inconvenient, as he had not thought to bring a coat. Iblis sighed at his apparent ignorance of so many things in the world. Well, here he was, and he could only learn now. He marked down _Always bring a warm coat, no matter what supposedly warm country you're going to _as a valuable life lesson.

The city was bustling with life, even more so than by day. Now that it was cool enough for their convenience, the mundanes got out of their air-conditioned homes to do their shopping. This made for a large crowd; every street, square, cafe or restaurant was full of all kinds of people, tourists and natives alike. For Iblis this was as new and exciting as everything was since he had run away from home, and he spent a lot of time just going along with the flow of the crowd and marveling at the lamp-lit wonders of the city.

As the night progressed, though, it got a little too cold for his liking, and so he found himself in one of the many bars frequented mainly by tourists. It was quite gloomy in here, only a few oil-lamps all over the room served to make a dim, flickering non-light and also spread what was probably supposed to be the Oriental flair. They had, thankfully, English menus, but as Iblis skimmed over one, he found that he didn't know a single of the drinks offered. A cup of tea seemed totally out of the question.

That's when the lady sitting next to him on the bar said: "Well, hello, young man. I couldn't help noticing you there. Can I buy you a drink?"

The woman was dark-skinned, with her full black hair in a fashionable up-do. She was also dressed in an expensive-looking fur coat and, while being quite attractive, considerably _older_ than him. Had Iblis not been so immersed in his still persistent culture shock, he would probably have noticed the purr in her husky voice as she had asked, and the way she looked at him like he was a delicious piece of chocolate she wanted to devour. Alas, Iblis was fifteen, and the telltale signs told him nothing.

Thus, his only thought was: _She wants to buy me something? Nice! _And so, flashing the woman a dazzling smile, he gave her an affirmative answer, which resulted in a tumbler filled with an amber-colored liquid being pushed his way. Looking into the glass, he was met with the smell of alcohol.

Ah yes, _drinks_. He had seen them occasionally, with his father, and the effect they had was anything but funny. He absentmindedly swirled the amber liquid around in the glass, his formerly good mood suddenly clouded by gloomy thoughts.

"First time, huh?" the fur coat woman asked with a smirk. "How old are you, boy?"

"Fifteen. And a half. I'll be sixteen real soon." Iblis took a tentative sip of the...whatever it was in his glass. Hmm, that actually wasn't too bad...

The fur coat woman chuckled. "_Fifteen_" she repeated, dragging the word. "So what brings a dashing young British gent like you to a place like this? Are you, by any chance, looking for a lady friend...?"

"Um...I don't..." _What?_

Seeking to avoid the fur coat woman's gaze, and also feeling his face glowing, Iblis risked a larger swig from the glass, only to be again caught by surprise at the liquid fire burning down his throat. The fur coat woman saw him wince and laughed gently.

"So it really is your first time with the stuff" she remarked. "Here, let me refill that."

The second glass went down much easier, and it made a pleasant, glowy feeling in his stomach. Warm. The young djinn reveled in the warmth on this unexpectedly cold night, so he noticed the hand on his knee only a good two seconds after it had been applied.

"You don't need to say yes if you don't want to, of course..." the fur coat woman purred. "But I thought...why don't we..."

"Um, excuse me, ma'am" Iblis interrupted. He got up abruptly and left the bar for dear life. Well, so much for _that_ experience.

Outside, he gasped as the cool night air hit him, and leaned against a wall. _My, the world seems rather spinny tonight..._

As the spinning slowly subsided, he pushed himself off the wall and ambled on, focusing mainly on walking in a straight line without any mishaps. But a few breaths of what passed, in Cairo, for fresh air cleared his mind considerably and, as he filed another valuable lesson about weird older women in bars away, good spirit took over again. He proceeded aimlessly down the street.

Soon his wandering gaze got caught by another kind of women. They too were older, but not by ten years. There were three of them, all wearing the same type of colorful, pretty, but flimsy, decidedly too cold outfits consisting of see-through silk that left almost nothing to the imagination and what looked like... jeweled underwear? Uncomfortable...

They were standing near the entrance of what appeared to be another bar, chatting, making eyes at passers-by. From the way they acted, Iblis assumed that it was their job to lure customers in. One of them was smoking a cigarette. Damn, he wanted a cigarette too. Maybe Nimrod had some at his place he could take. Yes, maybe he should call it a night and head back to Nimrod. _She must be bloody freezing_ he thought, eyeing the smoking girl.

"Hey there!" another girl, one of the non-smokers, called out.

"Me?"

"Ah, yes you! What are you looking at?"

"Um...I just..." Asking the ladies for a cigarette would be plain rude now, wouldn't it? "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be staring."

The smoking girl giggled. "Oh my God, he's British!"

The third girl, who had hitherto been silent, smiled and said: "Come on, Tas, let him look. Being looked at is our business, eh?" She winked at Iblis. All three of them spoke English, with a distinct Arabian accent.

"Well, you're right" the first girl said.

"Excuse me" said Iblis, coming closer. "How did you know I'm British?"

"Just the way you talk, honey. Your accent. I'm Tasbeh" the first girl introduced herself. "This is Maryam. And this is Yasmin."

"Iblis."

The three girls looked at each other. "Are you, really?" Tasbeh asked. "Or is that just your name?"

Now Iblis didn't know much about the world, but he knew what his own name meant, especially in a mainly Muslim environment. "It's just my name" he said. "I didn't choose it."

Yasmin dropped her cigarette and asked: "Were your parents stupid or just plain cruel?"

Iblis groaned inwardly, being reminded of his father for the second time this evening. "Plain cruel" he said with a strained smile.

"Now, to business" Tasbeh said. "Had your eye on Yasmin, hadn't you?"

"No...I..."

"Oh boo" Yasmin said with a mock frown. "Wages want to be earned, you know, pretty boy."

"Would you rather like Maryam or me? There's more of us ladies inside."

"For me to...look at?"

"Oh, we do more than just looking." The three girls chuckled.

"Excuse me if I seem...oblivious" Iblis said. "Just what is it you ladies are proposing?"

They looked at each other.

"You never met girls like us before?" Maryam said softly.

"Look here, pretty boy" Tasbeh said. "Our business is..."

"Love" Maryam said.

"Company" Yasmin continued.

"Affection" Tasbeh ended.

"You...sell love?"

"Ah...well...the...bodily aspects of the thing."

"Oh. _That_ kind of stuff." Iblis had seen some of _that_ before. On pictures. In books.

"This is a decent establishment" Tasbeh explained. "We're very...careful here. Cleanly. No nasty diseases. Always use protection."

"That's...nice for you?" Iblis tried.

"You want to come in with us, pretty boy?"

Iblis looked at the three pleasant girls and wondered what he had gotten into. "Ladies, let's be honest here" he said at last. "Earlier, I just stopped by you in hopes to maybe pinch a cigarette off you. I have no idea about...you know, the stuff that is your business."

"Oh, but there's a first time for everything."

"I really think I shouldn't."

"Hmm" Yasmin said. "Looks like he wants to be convinced, girls."

"No...I..."

Tasbeh laid a hand on his forearm and smiled. "Listen, sweetie, why don't we just go inside – completely no obligations for you – and discuss things? Maybe over a cigarette, if you want."

Iblis shrugged. His first intention had been to decline and get out of here, but, well, the girls had been very nice so far. Also the night was young, he was still slightly tipsy, he had some money and he felt...daring.

* * *

><p>Nimrod witnessed him coming home at one in the morning, trailing the smell of alcohol, cigarettes and women's perfume, a strangely blissful expression on his face.<p>

"What happened to you?" he asked.

"I met some ladies who sell love" Iblis told him before falling into bed. "It is a most peculiar concept."

"Is it" Nimrod, virgin by choice and circumstance, replied.

"I learned a lot tonight."

Nimrod sighed. "Take a shower tomorrow, you smell like a brothel."

* * *

><p><strong>Now I know that this is just silly stuff - I did originally plan to add some more serious content, but it got too long. Oh well! In the next chapter. I always find super-long chapters such a strain to read. What's your view on that? Should the next chapters be longer, or is this length okay?<br>**

**Young, innocent, _righteous_ Iblis is such a precious baby, huh? Too bad he cannot stay like that.**


	4. The Makings of Evil

**I might as well upload this as long as I'm still at my parents' house where there's internet...**

**Let's have some evil in this chapter, shall we? Or at least what I call the makings of evil. The how-to-use-your-djinn-powers goes a bit awry. You can put the blame on Nimrod's teaching skills not quite being what they will become, or on Iblis being a walking disaster. Whatever you like best. We also get a few shadowy glances at Iblis's childhood, which was…not so nice, to say the least, but, well, what did you expect?**

**I'm assuming Nimrod's focus word has always been QWERTYUIOP. That's lazy of me, but whatever. Computers weren't invented yet back then, but they had typewriters…right?**

**To****Justreading****, thank you for the reviews! Yes, um, regarding Nimrod's age, I admit I hoped that no one would notice that… *is profusely ashamed* Yeah, I know he ought to be fourteen, but I made him a bit older for various reasons. In retrospect, these reasons seem kinda stupid though. Thank you for correcting me!**

**Disclaimer****: Nope. Still no ownership of anything in sight. **

* * *

><p>It was the next morning and, as Nimrod had promised, they went out into the desert. Nimrod also suggested they ride there on <em>horrid<em>, _four_-_legged_, _totally_ _graceless_ _animals_, but Iblis was dead against it.

"What even are those things?" he asked Nimrod. "They look like their skin is made of old doormats, they move as if they were drunk all the time, they reek…and they spit! Eew!"

"They are camels, Iblis" Nimrod said softly. "And they are not weird at all, but highly useful, admirable animals. As a matter of fact, they are the Marid tribe's chosen animal. We admire their fine qualities like their endurance and their intelligence – camels are very intelligent. They only spit at those they don't like."

"Hah!"

"Your tribe's chosen animal, however" Nimrod went on lecturing, "is the snake."

_Snake_, Iblis thought. Something long and twisty and scaly slithered through his mind.

"Each djinn tribe has an animal they have chosen to represent them. This is the animal they excel at taming, and can turn into for an unlimited amount of time. You will find the chosen animal on all kinds of old family crests, especially in the so-called leading houses…"

"…which were the families who most often produced the tribal leader. I know about that stuff. The Teer family is such a one."

"Yes, and the Godwin family too. But let's not brag with what our crusty ancestors have done. We wanted to go out into the desert, didn't we?"

"Into the desert, fine, but I'm not riding one of these _things_."

"The aversion you feel towards them is probably an Ifrit thing. It's the snake speaking out of you."

"There's no snakes speaking out of me!"

"So are you coming or not?"

"No!"

Nimrod sighed.

They compromised on horses, and found out that riding comes natural to the djinn. The horses took an instant liking to them, and the young djinn immediately developed a feel for the rhythm in which their steeds moved. Well, Nimrod still felt slightly like a sack of potatoes hanging on the horse's back, while Iblis, of course, looked totally at ease and _graceful_, that smug little _bastard_.

Nimrod, who knew his way around, had chosen a pretty desolate part of desert near Giza for them to practice. As they got there and dismounted, Iblis asked: "Do you think there's snakes around here?"

"Why, probably, yes. This country is literally crawling with them."

As Nimrod chuckled at his little pun, Iblis, who had walked a few steps off into the dunes and bent over something, turned back towards him with a giant, hissing Egyptian cobra in his hands. "Like this?" he asked.

Nimrod had absolutely no idea where his companion has found a snake in a matter of about five seconds. He had to keep from screaming out loud. "Eep! Yes! Exactly like this! Now put it down, it'll bite you!"

"No, it won't. It's friendly." Iblis tapped the snake on the snout. The thing looked a bit surprised. "I think I'll call you Percy. You look like a Percy to me."

Nimrod stared in something like horrid fascination. "How do you even know it's a male? And how do you know it's friendly?"

"I just do." Iblis shrugged, causing the snake to bob its head. "But if you say…do you really think he could bite me?"

"Well, it's within the realm of possibilities. Its venom wouldn't affect you – all djinn are immune to snake venom – but a bite is a bite, and it still hurts. Also you can't call him Percy, he's an _Egyptian_ cobra. That is forcing your culture on him."

"Hmm. You said something about turning into animals…is it possible for me to turn into Percy? Which is totally his name now, sorry. No take backs."

"Yes, absolutely. The transformation into an animal is one of the first things young djinn are taught. Under normal circumstances, that is…"

Iblis shrugged. "My father didn't want to hear of it. He said mucking about with animals is unclean."

"But…all djinn do that."

"Then maybe all djinn are unclean to my father. He is like that. Can you show me about the snake now?"

"Yes, why not?" Nimrod asked. "It's a great first lesson to learn. I can assist you with the extraction of your spirit, but not with anything else…I am scared of snakes."

"Hah. That's probably the horrible reeking camel beast speaking out of you." Iblis carefully put the snake back on the ground. "Don't run away now, Percy" he said. "You're in for an experience. Alright, Nimrod, what do I do?"

"Well, first you dissolve your atoms, like with a transubstantiation…"

"Trans-what?"

Nimrod sighed. _What on earth did his father teach him? _"Well, looks like we have to start from the very beginning…"

They sat down on the hot sand and Nimrod began his very first lesson, while Iblis played with the snake and listened. Nimrod found that he enjoyed teaching. _I could do that to other young djinn, when I'm a bit older_, he thought. It wasn't that hard, he just repeated what Mr. Rakshasas had taught him. He also remembered that the first transubstantiation is best done with assistance, so he asked for permission to hold Iblis's hand and took it gingerly. For a second, it was just plain awkward, standing around in the desert holding hands, but then Nimrod channeled his djinn powers and dissolved the two of them.

"Woah, I'm floating!" he heard a ghost-voice next to him.

"I know, it's a funny feeling at first" he whispered back. "I'm right beside you. See the snake? Concentrate on it while you slip in. Imagine it like diving into a water pool. It will feel strange at first, but you'll find your bearings in no time. Remember that snakes cannot speak. You will also be unable to communicate with me telepathically, as I'm returning to my permanent form now. It doesn't do to stay bodiless for too long. So basically you're on your own from now, but it's important not to panic. Any more questions?"

"How do I get out?"

"The same way you got in! Good luck to you!"

And Iblis was alone.

'_The same way you got in'? Right…so much for you being a most wonderful teacher, Nimrod._

But as soon as he was the snake, he did really find his bearings fairly quickly. Things surely looked easier from an animal's perspective. There was a lot of sand, and sand meant places to hide and places to find food. There were two four-legged creatures, too big for prey, but harmless. And then there was a two-legged creature, a Marid, and Marid meant _enemy_, and enemy meant _kill._

The enemy's hand was right there…

The snake had _fangs_…

"Aaaaaahh!"

"Oh God…oh Jesus Christ…"

"You bit me!"

"I'm so sorry…I don't know what came over me…"

"You _poisoned_ me!"

"What…I…you said we were immune to snake venom!"

"Of normal snakes, not djinn snakes!"

"Oh no, oh God, I'm sorry…"

"Don't be, do something! Quick, give me your tie!"

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Give. It. Here."

Iblis hastily undid his tie and threw it over to Nimrod, who slung it around his forearm. "Great, now you tie a knot. As tight as you can. Don't bother if it cuts in, it actually has to."

"Uh…right. Why am I doing that?"

"To cut off blood circulation."

"Oooh, splendid. Now your forearm has to die, but not the rest of you?"

The situation was very serious, but yet Nimrod couldn't help rolling his eyes at the question asked in perfect innocence. "Hopefully no part of me will die. This is where you come in now."

"What do I have to do?" Iblis asked, looking pale but determined.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to suck the poison out of the wound. At…least I heard that this is how it's done."

"Hmm…I can try doing that" Iblis agreed, taking Nimrod's hand and placing it on his lips. In his state of shock, Nimrod felt like all his senses were strangely heightened, but the only disconnected thought that floated around his brain was _oh, his lips are very soft…soft but firm…huh… _The shock made him float around in a timeless bubble that encompassed him and Iblis sucking on his hand, occasionally pausing to spit out. But then he stood up and the bubble popped and Nimrod came back to the real world.

"Do you think you got everything out?"

"I guess so" Iblis said. He still looked a bit gray in the face. Nimrod remembered that he was probably quite shocked too.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Me…? I'm fine. I smell of snake, though. And my mouth is tingly."

"There's water in one of the saddle bags. Thank you. You really helped me out there."

"I wouldn't have had to help out if I hadn't bit you in the first place" Iblis said, an ashamed expression on his face.

"The snake bit me, not you. You were just…overwhelmed."

"I don't…it's so…"

"Don't let it worry you" Nimrod said tiredly and sat down on a dune.

Iblis sat next to him, a bit anxious and shy to touch Nimrod at first, but then, as he laid an awkward hand on his friend's shoulder and Nimrod leaned into him instead of brushing him off, he started rubbing his hand over his back in soothing circles until Nimrod stopped trembling as the shock slowly subsided.

"Better now? Do you want to go back?"

"Go back? Oh dear me, no" Nimrod said with his old sunny smile back on his face. It rivaled the desert sun in warmth, it really did. "The day has barely even started! And there's so much I haven't taught you yet. Didn't you want to learn about the whirlwind?"

"If…you feel up to it?" Iblis said shyly. It was odd, worrying about another person like that. He hadn't worried about anyone but himself ever since his mother died…

"Of course I do." Nimrod stood up and opened his arms as if to hug someone, and shouted: "QWERTYUIOP!"

"What the hell is a QWERTYUIOP?"

"It's the first ten letters on a typewriter, and also my focus word. Now please don't break my concentration."

"Sorry!"

"Not a problem. Stop apologizing all the time! And once again: QWERTYUIOP!"

Seconds later, Nimrod had produced a marvelous whirlwind. Iblis couldn't help but stare at it, and he fervently wished he could do that too. He was as nervous as he was delighted when Nimrod turned to him and said "Now you".

He opened his arms like Nimrod had and focused on the task at hand. He had no idea how he should use his djinn powers to influence the wind, but…

"Don't overthink it" Nimrod advised, as if he had sensed his insecurity. "Just focus on the result. All that is thinkable is possible."

Iblis furrowed his brows in determination and thought of the result he wanted. A nice, large, tamed whirlwind just like Nimrod's. Then he searched for the place within his mind where he knew that fire burned, the special fire that made things possible. Indeed as he wished for it, wind seemed to come. Not much, just several breezes from different directions. They met each other before Iblis and started circling.

When Iblis noticed that, he was so surprised that something was actually happening that he let his concentration slip and the winds fell.

"I think you need a deeper focus" Nimrod said. Iblis nodded, closed his eyes and sought out the hidden flame again. This time he would not be swayed.

He conjured the wind up again, coaxed it into circling and forming a smallish strudel. Well, that was not enough…it needed to be taller…

Ever so slowly, the whirlwind rose up, became taller, broader, the swirling faster, and Iblis opened his eyes, held it there and grinned. His powers were a liquid heat in his every vein, and he felt like he was doing something he was destined to do. He could make a whirlwind. And he could make it as tall and wide and dangerous as he wanted…and he could make more of them, a lot of them, and he could make them go rogue and carry sand and houses and people with them and become the bane of this country.

These thoughts were new to him and strange, but…alluring. He marveled at everything he could do with all this warm, amazing power within him, and knew that whatever he used it for, it would be feeling _right_.

Some tiny part of him disagreed, though. It was small and in the far back of his mind, and it clamored and warned him that thinking such things was _not_ right, quite the _opposite._ It was annoying and he wanted to shut it out, so he dove deep into his Neshamah with all his being, and found it a magnificent flame, larger than life and never ceasing, larger than the whirlwind, etching its angry red way high into the sky.

_Nimrod_, he thought, _and my parents, and every other djinn out there…they all control something like this?_

_Such strong powers!_

Yes, he was strong…strong enough to part the waves…to unleash a thousand storms…strong enough to part the planet!

Such strong powers! And they begged to be released…let us, they begged. Let us make you feared. Let us unleash the winds, dry the seas, scorch the earth! Powerful are the djinn! And then, make them suffer… everyone who hurts, everyone who's annoying, insignificant…wipe them off the face of the earth…color the waters red with their blood…_kill…_

It was the same voice that had been in command when he had been the snake, the same _kill_…

…and it would hurt Nimrod again…

This disconnected little thought was enough to bring Iblis back. "No" he gasped, but the screaming, raging forces within him did not listen.

"No…I want to wipe no one off the earth…there's no one I hate…stop _thinking _that…"

But was that true?

Suddenly the hatred had a face, a sneering, cold, arrogant face that used words like _unclean _and _disappointment_ on a regular basis, and as always Iblis was disgusted with how much it resembled his own…was almost an older version of himself…well, except for the hair. Amidst the swirling chaos that his mind had become, Iblis thought about how he was dark-skinned and blond (yes, weird, people always looked); he had his father's facial features, but his mother's hair…and his _mother_ was…

His hatred surged and screamed and clawed at him, begging him to be set free and _show his father disappointment._ It threatened to take over, blotting out everything else that Iblis was.

_No…_ a last valiant bit of himself thought. _It is too strong…it's going to consume me…somebody…help…_

The chaos was too much, and then his concentration broke and saved him and the whirlwind sprang free from his grasp and, almost knocking Nimrod over, howled away into the empty desert.

And Iblis stood there. During the whole fight with himself, he had not moved an inch. He was breathing heavily, sweat was dripping from his chin into the sand, but he was his slightly nauseous self again.

"I lost control" he said in a hollow voice.

"Yes, that happens. Beginners mistake" Nimrod said amiably. Somehow, he had stayed completely oblivious to the small drama that had just happened.

"No, you don't understand, I _lost control_…"

"I know, I know. It happened to the best of us. That's why we're doing this out here in the desert. So that rogue whirlwinds don't destroy everything."

Iblis winced at 'destroy everything', suddenly hypersensitive to anything that could rouse the burning hatred again. But of course nothing happened; he was feeling slightly sick and wobbly on his legs and trembled despite the oven-like heat. Right now, it was as if nothing powerful was left in him.

"But, well, the result as such was pretty steady. You held the whirlwind for quite some time. Want another try?" Nimrod went on to ask.

"No."

"Oh…exhausted?"

"Yes."

"It gets easier with time. Don't work yourself up over this. I assure you, it has happened to everyone on their first try. Me too."

_Not like this though_, Iblis thought wryly. _I assure you, Nimrod, not like this._

_I'm evil,_ he realized. _Oh God. People really do get born evil._


End file.
